I gave myself permission to be depressed.
I wanted my body to cry, oversleep, lay around in bed, eat unstructured meals, be isolated--all in hopes that my body would purge the toxicity and in turn, I could continue on my positive path.
That day, going home from work, I thought of terrible things.
I wished that I was ill enough to be excused from the turbulent and the tumultuous nature of daily life. I wondered if it would make a difference if I hurt myself this time.
I was late for work the next day. The feeling of shame today was so consuming I wanted to cry so hard, let them see why I've slipped up on my duties. But...I know how this works. I can't bring my personal struggles to work because it'll only make it that much worse; questions of whether I can be trusted, whether I'm healthy or tough enough to do this job. I have allowed this disorder to cast a shadow on enough opportunities in my life, I will not let it consume this one.
I will do my very best at my job today.
I will hold it together and when I get home, I will still hold it together but I will clean.
It's what I do--I clean when I feel ashamed of myself or when I know I've disappointed someone because I used to do that when my mom was angry with me for not doing something I was told to do.
It works and it's a healthy way of coping with the feelings because it's distracting and gratifying.
I felt the storm coming this time. It started with feeling more tired than usual, laziness, giving up on my routine, letting pessimism win, then showed its ugly face through errors in judgment at work. So here it is, it has arrived for a visit but I won't allow it to stay. Because what I've built for myself--within myself--is worth far more than to be given up on.
